


Something a Little Different

by Secretness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Brotherly Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6349774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretness/pseuds/Secretness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's confession<br/>An Endverse flashback<br/>And teaching Cas how to kiss </p>
<p>(also, what happens when you irritate an angel)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something a Little Different

Dean couldn’t have stayed in the motel for another minute. The clicking of Sam’s laptop keys was driving him insane, the slurping of his brother’s empty cup, or the silence that otherwise surrounded them. 

“I’m going for a drive,” Dean had announced, sliding on his boots and pulling the Impala keys out of his pocket with a jingle.

“Oookay,” said Sam with a frown, watching his brother leave.

Dean had slammed the door harder than he meant to. Stepping into the night air, he wished it was colder, still did, but to spite him, the night was pleasant. He had thrown himself into his baby and shut the door and turned the key, both more roughly than was necessary.

Dean looked at the clock and then his gas tank. He was approaching two hours now, driving out in one direction, turning around, and going the opposite way. This anxiety was getting ridiculous. 

Cas was somehow magically back from Purgatory, and that should give him some relief, and it did, really it did, but the guilt and regret he had settled into was comfortable. With the angel back and sane, something in him was shredding his insides. Dean nearly pulled over to puke. 

Dudes never held any interest for him. Angels were on his shit list, no doubt. What’s dead should stay dead.

None of these rules seemed to apply to Castiel.

He had to do something. Ignoring whatever was wriggling in him was a well practiced skill, and even after the warnings from his future self four years ago, he had stuffed down as much as he could. Castiel stuck in Purgatory hurt, but Dean could shoulder more shame. That was easy.

Now Cas was back though, and Dean could focus on little else. 

He sighed, gripped the steering wheel with both hands, and sat a little straighter. It was a while before his working mouth actually formed words.

“Hey, Cas… I’ve got an empty seat here if you have time.”

A couple minutes slid by, and Dean could feel his nerve dissolving.

“Please, Cas,” he whispered.

A flutter of wings reached his ears before he saw the man sitting beside him. Cas’ hair was fluffed from flight but otherwise he was completely put together, like usual. His eyes locked on Dean with a frown.

“Are you alright, Dean?” he asked, his deep baritone filling the car.

“Yeah… no.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and continued, “Just… I have to talk to you about something. Just listen, don’t--don’t talk, just let me finish.”

Dean watched him out of the corner of his eye. Castiel nodded, his frown deepening.

“Remember back when Zachariah sent me to the future, and I met us?”

Castiel nodded again, committed to not speaking. 

“Before we all went off on that suicide mission, I--the future me pulled me aside. He wanted to warn me.”

2014 (Alternate)

A sharp whistle caught Dean’s attention. He and the grungy campers around him looked up. Their eyes, squinting against the sun, landed on the other Dean and the dark wood of his cabin. He gestured at his younger self to come over. Dean set down the duffle bags he was carrying out to the cars, crunching the half dead grass under them, and approached the cabin. He vaulted the steps and came to a halt beside his gruffer future self. 

The man was leaning forward, his forearms bracing him on the banister of the porch. He didn’t acknowledge the other one, just squinted out at the field before them. The grass was a mix of green and brown and a ways out, there were two children no older than five, shrieking and giggling and running in circles around Cas, who seemed to be greatly enjoying throwing them about. While the children had on thick outer layers to protect them from the bite in the wind, Cas had nothing more on than his regular loose shirt. 

“I haven’t seen any kids,” the younger Dean said, standing beside his other self, “I suppose most got left, and now it’s stupid to have them.”

Future Dean nodded, and added, “But the few we do have love Cas.”

“I can see that,” younger Dean agreed with a smirk as Cas picked up one child and flew him or her around like an airplane. 

Future Dean took a breath, not taking his eyes off the three in the distance, “There are lots of things I wish I could change, things I want to do differently. Selfish things I wish I could have. I don’t know if saying yes to Michael will prevent this or make it worse, and I don’t know what kind of crazy bullshit you will come up with after leaving here, but there is one thing you can do for both of us.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“Cas…. After all this, he’s still here, and he’s the only one. And I still couldn’t do it. Now it just seems like too much, something unnecessary to add. I can’t think about it now…. He is one of my biggest regrets, the biggest one you can fix.”

The younger Dean frowned at his other self, and said, “I don’t understand. He already rebelled. They’re hunting him. He’s cut off from Heaven. I can’t change that.”

A heavy sigh left the older Dean. He itched his nose and stood, facing his younger self, and gave him a deadpan look, saying, “I know it’s new to you, but you could be less  
of an idiot.”

The younger Dean looked at him incredulously.

Future Dean continued, his voice quieter, “His lips. You noticed those first, way back at Bobby’s when he backed you into the counter, way back when he scared you half to death. Not sure what it was about them, but they were fascinating.”

The younger Dean swallowed hard and looked down.

“Then it was his eyes. This angel that wasn’t supposed to have emotions--his eyes displayed everything he felt--sadness, fondness, guilt, curiosity. Have you picked up on that yet?”

The younger Dean did not speak or move.

“Yeah,” his older self said, “Next, it will be his hands. The dreams about his hands alone…. It’s not that Jimmy’s vessel was so attractive or that we’re more bendy in the sexuality department than we’d like to be. It’s Cas. It’s just Cas.”

He reached out and grabbed the front of the other Dean’s jacket and yanked him closer. The younger one still couldn’t find the words to speak through his embarrassment, still couldn’t look himself in the eyes. 

“No,” the older one said, giving him a little shake, “Look at me.” 

The silent Dean finally raised his gaze, both faces desperate in very different ways.

Future Dean growled at him, “We have done horrible things. I have done worse. We have a list as long as the dead of things to be ashamed of, but Cas? He’s not one of them. He’s the best damn thing you have. I don’t care if you can’t stop the apocalypse. I don’t care how you change or alter the future. Tell him, protect him, hold him, do whatever he wants because if he’s stupid enough to take you, he’s far more than we have ever deserved. Don’t let yourself regret this. I promise, it hurts more than you can imagine, and I know we don’t often have to imagine. We need him.”

The burly hands gripping the clean jacket let go, and past Dean took a step back.

They heard another shriek and high pitched giggles and looked out over the field as Cas’ deep belly laugh reached them. They saw him spread out his arms and fall back into the grass, the children immediately pouncing on top of him.

2013 (Present)

Dean swallowed, his eyes dead on the road. Castiel was still beside him, and had stayed true to agreeing to allow Dean to speak his piece. Dean sneaked a glance at the angel and saw only an open, curious expression as he waited for more or permission to talk.

Dean swallowed, rubbed a hand over his mouth, and continued, “And then I lost you in Stull Cemetery, and God brought you back. And I went off to Lisa and Ben, and I loved them, I really did. We lost you to the leviathans, and somehow you were alive, but in the same day I lost you again. That second in Purgatory when we realized your crazy was gone--that was like getting you back--and then you disappeared. I searched everywhere for you, and when I left… I left you behind, it killed me, Cas. I know you showed me something different, said you planned to stay, but I still don’t know if I believe any of it. And now you’re magically back again. I can’t….”

Dean sucked in a breath through his nose, his eyes still out on the black road, “I don’t know how many times you can lose someone and get them back. I’m sure we’ve already broken some kind of record. This time…. I just needed to say something this time. Might not get a sixth or seventh chance.” 

For the longest time, the growl of the engine was the only noise heard. Dean was nauseously tense, and Castiel still had not moved. Fear of looking at him was making it difficult if not fucking impossible to swallow. Unable to take it, he stood on the breaks and yanked the Impala to the side. He twisted the keys and dropped them in the seat, pushing open the door and breathing in mild air. He left the door open though, as he leaned back against the car, closing his eyes. 

It was difficult to tell--was it this awkward confession that twisted in his chest? Was it fear of Castiel looking at him differently? Or was it some cheesy, unbearable version of a broken heart? He drew in a rattling breath.

Castiel’s quiet voice came from inside the car, “Should I speak now?”

Dean choked down one last breath and nodded even though he knew Cas couldn’t see him. He turned and slid back into his car but left the door open and one leg out on the pavement. 

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Could you look at me, Dean?”

Dean closed his eyes in combative instinct but then forced them back open and looked over at Castiel. 

His future self had been right. Castiel’s eyes were so telling he barely needed to say what he was thinking. They were round and somehow still frowning and watching Dean with such intensity, Dean wasn’t sure how long he could hold that gaze. 

Cas told him gently, “I am… unclear about what you want.” When Dean said nothing, Cas spoke again, “I am glad to hear that you develop the capacity to speak freely, even if it is just to yourself, and now me.”

Dean pressed his palms into his eyes until white spots bloomed in his vision, and Castiel realized whatever he was doing, he was doing it wrong. He was distressing Dean further. Cas moved closer along the seat and dropped his hand to the cushion, extending his fingers until the tips brushed the side of Dean’s leg. Dean’s hands slid from his face, eyes fastened on the contact, Castiel touching him ever so slightly, insignificant contact that had him captivated. 

“Dean, I do not know exactly what you wish of me, but I will give it, whatever it is, to whatever capacity.”

With another swallow, Dean turned his head and was taken aback to find Cas in the middle seat and still looking at him as if he were trying to see through him. Letting the white knuckled grip of one hand off the steering wheel, Dean brought it up and hesitantly, precariously set it just on the edge of Cas’ bottom lip. He waited for the angel to pull away, but when Castiel made no move to do so, Dean pushed forward and pressed his lips to where his finger so gingerly touched a moment before. 

Far from helping or satisfying, the touch just gave him a suddenly desperate need for more. Castiel didn't move, didn’t close his eyes as Dean had, simply waited with no clue of what he was supposed to do. He had no ability to describe what it felt like, couldn’t put words to a physical sensation he did not know. Dean’s hand clenched in its lap, itching to run through Cas’ hair, to pull him closer, to make the angel respond, even it was pushing him away.

He sat back from Castiel and set a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. Again Castiel realized he was not reacting correctly.

He said, “I need you to tell me what you want me to do.”

“Nah, Cas,” said Dean, groping for the keys, “Don't worry about it. Forget it, actually.”

The key made it to the ignition before Castiel plucked it from his grip. Dean heaved a frustrated sigh. 

“Dean, I have been on Earth long enough to know what kissing is, but I don't know how to… perform. I don’t know what you want. Tell me what you need, and even if I don’t understand, I will do it.”

“You don’t think that’s a little rapey?” 

“I’m not an imbecile, Dean. Nor am I so ignorant as to not know the implications and escalations of such a touch.”

For a couple seconds neither of them moved. Dean cleared his throat.

“Okay,” he mumbled, dragging his foot back into the car and shutting the door with a thud. 

He angled himself towards the angel, who now admittedly, looked more irritated than anything.

“Well… first of all, when you kiss someone you close your eyes. It’s creepy and frustrating.”

Castiel gave a small nod.

“Um, maybe… Focus on the other person’s bottom lip to start with, not their whole mouth or anything.”

“Your bottom lip,” Cas corrected passively. 

Heat spread from the tops of Dean’s ears as he tried to ignore the comment. 

“Like this,” he muttered, and leaned back in.

Cas moved an inch at the most towards him, but it was an improvement. When he felt Dean’s lips gently press against his, he made sure to close his eyes. And it did kind of help. The touch disappeared as Dean pulled away, and Cas was fairly certain he could open his eyes again. The way that Dean looked at him was as uncertain as Cas had ever seen him, but Castiel was sure this time he knew the right response.

He reached out and curled his fingers around the open edge of Dean’s jacket and pulled him closer, pressing his lips to Dean’s in what he hoped was a decent mimic of what Dean had done to him. The lips on his vessel were much larger than Dean’s, he realized and adjusted the kiss. Trapped between Cas’, Dean’s lip was thin and a little rough and largely allowing him to do whatever he wished. Intrigued though he was, Cas pulled back, but he didn’t get more than an inch. Dean’s hand gripped the collar of Cas’ coat and kept him in place. He wondered if this proximity also required him to close his eyes. Dean’s eyes were shut, so Cas closed his as well. 

“Open your mouth,” Dean whispered, his lips brushing Castiel’s as he spoke with barely more than a whisper.

The angel complied. Before he could think about just how much he should open his mouth, Dean had control of it. Physical touch Cas was ready to experience, but he hadn’t been expecting a new taste. Dean’s tongue slid over Cas’ and then up along the roof of his mouth, very nearly overwhelming him.

The hand on his coat collar pulled him farther forward. Fingers plunged through his hair and pressed him closer, Dean’s tongue working deeper in, forcing Cas’ mouth open wider. It was a good taste, and Cas was content with letting Dean fill him with it. The fingers in his hair fisted and tugged at him insistently, and Castiel found himself again without knowledge of what Dean wanted from him.

Dean pulled back barely enough to separate their mouths and let out a frustrated breath, grumbling, “Fucking do something, Cas.”

“What?”

“Anything, just--just do something!”

The taste of Dean’s tongue was back. As much as Dean was still pulling at him, perhaps Dean wanted them closer? He reach out and gripped the other man’s hips through the thick band of his jeans and easily pulled him up out of his seat. Dean gasped in surprise as he was settled over Cas, his legs straddling the angel’s lap. Dean’s eyes roved down to where he sat and how their bodies now touched, barely breathing. It was then that Castiel realized Dean had perhaps been asking for him to do something with the kiss. 

“Is this alright?” asked Castiel, the frown back on his face.

Dean’s gaze snapped back up to him, and he nodded, his fingers gently smoothing down the hair he ruffled on Cas’ head. This time when Dean leaned his face towards Cas’, the angel met him. It only took several seconds of sucking on Cas’ bottom lip for Dean to take advantage of his new seating arrangement, pressing their bodies as tight together as he could manage. He licked his way back into Cas’ mouth, gripping the hair on the top of his head, and pulling Castiel’s head back against the top edge of the bench seat, stretching out his neck, pushing Cas into the cushion from every angle he had, more than aware of Cas’ hands still clamped on his hips. 

Castiel found that sucking at Dean’s tongue made that sweet, heated taste spread faster. 

It took a while for him to notice and then identify the overly warm object pushed into his lower stomach. Dean’s hips rocked gently in Cas’ grip. The movements were small enough and the rub light enough that Cas did not think he was required to assist Dean with his erection yet.

Dean let the angel’s mouth go and trailed his nose against Cas’ chin and down until he could run his wet, swollen lips over Castiel’s exposed throat, head still bent back over the seat. Castiel swallowed as he tried to place this new sensation in his mind. Dean followed the gulp down to Cas’ Adam’s apple and sucked at it. He kissed and sucked and licked his way up and down Castiel’s open neck until he hit a spot just under the angel’s jaw that finally, fucking finally, made Cas breathing hitch. Dean attacked it, tilting Cas’ head to the side for better access, not letting up until it was purple and swollen, even in the dark. Cas’ back arched up into Dean without permission. It surprised him enough to want to ask about it, but his mind was working slower now, and he didn’t know why. Besides, speaking or anything else that would prevent Dean from owning this particularly vulnerable spot on his vessel was a bad idea. 

At some point kissing had turned into biting and sucking and the clack and scrape of teeth. Despite the sarcastic comments and crude jokes, Castiel decided he liked Dean’s mouth. 

Lights flashed through their eyelids, red and blue, so bright and quick against the night it hurt. Dean’s mouth left him as the human looked up out the back windshield, and Cas decided whatever it was should die for making Dean cease his ministrations. 

“Shit,” Dean grumbled, scrambling off his angel and back into the driver’s seat. 

He frantically opened the glove compartment, searching for papers. The shake of his hands made it far more difficult than ever was necessary. He rolled down the window as a man in a tan uniform with a massive flashlight approached the driver’s side of the Impala, hand on the gun at his hip. 

“Hey, Officer,” Dean said, clearing his throat to keep the tremble out of it.

He held out the papers as the cop leaned forward to better see inside the car. The man’s eyes were already narrowed before he set his gaze on both of them, and he didn’t take what Dean tried to hand him. 

“You know why I stopped over here?” the cop asked.

“Because we’ve been sitting here too long?” suggested Dean with half a smile.

“No,” the cop said shortly, “Because of your… activities.”

Castiel watched Dean set the papers in his lap and grip the steering wheel with both hands, staring hard at the hood of the Impala. 

“I should arrest you both for public indecency.”

Dean’s bravado tried to flare, but he didn’t look at the man still leaning in the window, “C’mon, kissing isn’t public indecency.”

“It is for people like you.”

Castiel watched Dean’s eyes fall from the windshield to the horn of the steering wheel. He waited, but Dean didn’t have a testy reply, didn’t move to throw punches. Anger flared in the angel. This man did not get to make Dean feel small.

“Excuse me, Officer,” Castiel said, leaning forward to see the man better, “You should probably go sit in your car. You were limping on your way over here.”

The cop looked at Cas like he was brain dead, and said, “No, I wasn’t. I need you both out of the car.”

CRACK.

With a cry of pain, the cop went down, disappearing from the window. Dean leaned over and looked down. The cop’s ankle was snapped, completely pointing sideways. Dean jerked his head in Castiel’s direction but saw only a curiously innocent expression. He looked back out at the cop and was wondering if he should open the door and help when the man struggled up on his one foot, gripping the Impala door for support, his face red with pain and anger he wasn’t quite sure where to place. 

“Get out of the car. You are under arrest,” he grunted through clenched teeth.

“What did you say?” Castiel asked gently with a frown.

Dean pushed himself back into his seat to stay out from between them, watching in shock.

“Get out. You’re under arrest.”

“I cannot understand you,” said Cas, shaking his head a little.

The cop reached for his gun, still holding himself up with one hand on the Impala. He opened his mouth to bark more orders, but what came out was a strangled gurgle. Blood sprayed over the grass like a spit-take. He went down on his knees, choking and sputtering. 

The jingling of keys reached Dean’s ears. He tore his eyes away from the man on the ground to look at the one beside him. Cas slotted the key in the ignition and turned it. Baby roared to life.

Castiel dropped his hand and sat back, getting comfortable.

“Please drive, Dean,” he said quietly, his eyes tracing a pattern of stars out of the windshield. 

Dean did as he was asked, not sure what else there was to do. The Impala pulled out on the road, and the cop and his flashing lights shrunk in the rearview mirror.

“Is he going to die?” asked Dean.

“No,” Castiel replied lightly, finding new star patterns before them.

Dean smirked, frowned, and almost laughed, not at all sure how to respond. 

Finally he settled on reaching over and gripping a handful of material on Cas’ shoulder, and said disbelievingly, “Dude, you are--fucking awesome.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, moving his hand to Jedi a rabbit away from the side of the road before Dean even saw the glare of its eyes, “Sam is praying to me. You have been gone a long time and have not answered his calls. He is concerned.”

Dean heaved a sigh and glanced at Cas, who was still looking wistfully out the windshield.

“You should talk to him,” Cas said lightly.

“No, I’ll make up some--”

“I do not think Sam and the officer we left are alike.”

“Of course not. Sam is the best person I know.”

“Then why keep such a secret?”

This time when Dean glanced over, Cas was frowning at him. Mouth moving, Dean didn’t say anything. Eventually he just nodded. Neither of them spoke or moved until the Impala pulled into the motel lot. Still thinking on the appropriate exit strategy for saying goodbye to his angel best friend he was just on top of, humping his stomach and sucking on his neck, Dean cleared his throat and cut the engine, sliding the keys out of the slot. Before he could decide on a move, however, Cas was gone with a sweep of his wings.  
Dean groaned and crashed his palm against the steering wheel. He was already fucking up.

His driver’s door opened. Snapping his head to the side, the alarm that raced through him dissipated when tan material stood beside the car. Anxiety returned, but it came with relief as Dean scrambled out of the Impala, too eager even to himself. When he was out of the way, Cas pushed the door shut with a slam. 

Looking him over, Dean wondered why this Angel of the Lord hadn’t healed himself. Under his jaw, Cas’ favorite spot was deep purple and swollen. Red hickies marred both sides of his neck and the front of his throat. Faint pink shadowed under the right side of Cas’ bottom lip.

Gesturing to his own neck, Dean said, “Might wanna clean those up, Cas.”

Castiel gave him a small frown and raised a hand to his throat. Gingerly Cas touched fingertips to his swollen skin, moving from one circular bruise to the next. His frown broke, and a light smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“They do not harm my vessel,” he said, “I think I will keep them for a while.”

Dean smirked and rubbed the back of his neck, red tinging his ears.

“Ah, okay. Goodnight, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyebrows knitted together again. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth up to Dean’s. Hesitation stalled Dean’s movements, his brain still working around the physical contact forbidden to him for so long. Castiel’s waist was solid and hardlined and undoubtedly male as his hands slid over Cas’ sides. Dean had never felt a body remotely like it before, and some part of him was glad for it. The strong torso, scruff against skin and cheek, the rough scratch of stubble on his lips as they ran down Cas’ neck--it was all and only Castiel.

Cas ended the kiss but didn’t pull away, his lips resting with light touch over Dean’s, exchanging breath. With a brush of air, Cas was gone. Dean sucked in a lungful through his nose but didn’t move, trying to commit to memory all the different little pressures and temperatures. With a sigh, feeling like an idiot and slightly lightheaded, he marched over the tar and into room 7.

Only a lifetime of honed hunter reflexes saved him as a remote gunned for his head, whipping by his ear so close he felt its breeze and crashed into pieces out in the middle of the parking lot. 

“What the hell, Sam!” Dean yelled, slamming the door shut.

“Me?” said Sam incredulously, putting a hand to his own chest, “Me? You’ve been stomping around here PMSing for weeks, and then you disappear. You’ve been gone for almost seven hours! You weren’t answering. Cas wasn’t answering. What the hell, Dean?”

“Yeah, fine,” grumbled Dean, kicking off his shoes, anger quickly fading. 

He ditched his jacket and threw the Impala keys on the bedside table. Sitting, he was aware of how frustrated and angry Sam was as he loomed over him. Anxiety returned nearly as consuming as it was in the Impala as he stumbled through his words for Cas. Now he had to stumble through words for Sam. Dean threw himself back on his mattress and swung his legs up, socked feet resting on his pillows and head dangerously close to surpassing the length of the bed. He closed his eyes and laced his fingers on his chest. Swallowing was difficult again. Great. Springs creaked from the other bed, and Dean assumed Sam had sat down.

“Okay,” said Sam, hands in the hair, his voice straining to hold back his irritation, “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Have you ever kissed a dude, Sam?”

“Fine,” Sam stood up again, “Whatever. I’m getting my own room.”

“I’m serious, Sam,” Dean said, opening his eyes and looking over as his brother, who was closing his laptop, “You want to know what’s going on. Answer the question.”

Sam heaved a great sigh, but he stopped, his eyes angled up at the ceiling as he tried to remember, and said, “Yeah, once.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

Sam turned fully towards him and leaned back against the table, gripping the edge with his hands, “Beginning of my sophomore year at college. I was dating a girl, and we were with this other couple, and it was sort of a deal. The girls would kiss if me and the other guy kissed. It was mostly joking and whatever…. What does that have to do with anything?”

Dean closed his eyes again and took a minute before saying, “Would it creep you out if your brother was a fruit?”

For a long minute Sam froze. The thoughts in his head had to reorder. In his long list og guesses of what had been bothering Dean, that was certainly nowhere on it. Every touchy-feely instinct he had kicked in, and it was audible in his voice.

Sam said, “Ah, creepy? No.” He resumed his seat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward with elbows on his knees. “No, no, it’s…. That’s not what I was expecting.” He cleared his throat and said, “Wow, ah, is there someone in mind… someone who made you think--or realize...?”

“Yes,” Dean said, forcing his breath to stay calm, “Not gay, Sammy, it’s just… it’s just him.”

“Who?”

Dean opened his eyes and turned his head towards his brother. His gaze was open and vulnerable, and Sam waited patiently, doing his very best to prepare for whatever answer.

Dean’s voice was quiet and hoarse when he answered, “‘t’s Cas, Sammy.”

It was Sam’s turn to raise his eyebrows. For a second they just looked at each other, and then Sam began bubbling with laughter. 

Two seconds from vomiting, Dean closed his eyes again, focussing on his breathing, but it was running too fast to control.

Sam recovered and said, scratching his nose, “Yeah, yeah, I can see that.”

“What?”

“C’mon, I mean, it’s Cas. He’s always been important you. He gets away with shit you wouldn’t let me get away with. It’s surprising that you’re… feeling like you can grow as a person, but after that, yeah, Cas. That part’s not surprising.”

“You don’t care?”

“The two people I care most about make each other happy? That’s great.”

Dean blinked at him. If he had been less manly, he would have wept at the relief that flooded him. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, setting his feet on the floor. He tried to pass it off and cover it up, but his head fell into his hands, and he let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you, Sammy…. I can’t…. Thank you.”

“Dean,” Sam said with a frown. He switched beds and placed himself beside his older brother and set a hand on his shoulder, “Dean, after everything we’ve been through, you seriously think something as simple, something quite frankly as wonder as this is going to mess with us? No, Dean, no fucking way.”

Dean rubbed his face and said again, “Thanks.”

“So, have you told him? When did you decide this? Wait, if you’re together, are the angels going to hunt you? Wait, wait… am I going to have to get my own room from now on?”

“Hold on, just hold it. I don’t know. I don't know much of anything. Yes, I told him, and he seemed… receptive to the idea. Sam, you should have seen him….”

Neither of them bothered to watch the clock. They didn’t care how long they sat on the bed, both cross legged, both easily smiling, like they were in grade school again. Dean told him about kissing Cas (though omitting the details) and told him about the now broken officer, which was a story Sam seemed to get a personal satisfaction from--something that pleased Dean more than he was willing to admit. He confided in his brother what his future self had told him. They joked and laughed and it was the lightest either of them had felt in a long while--years, perhaps. 

And as the sun began to rise and Dean was asleep, Sam sat down at his computer and softly called for Cas. When the angel appeared, he was concerned at the odd time of the call, but Sam had just wanted to thank him--for being willing to give Dean a shot, for knowing without a doubt what Dean hadn’t let himself even hope for in Sam’s acceptance, for pushing his brother into talking to him. And when their words were done, Cas’ eyes lingered on the sleeping figure not far from them, reluctant to leave.

“Here,” Sam said, pushing a chair out from the table with his foot, “I’m looking for an enenra. It’s Japanese, but there isn’t a ton of information. Sit and look with me. When he’s up, we’ll go get some breakfast.”

Gratefully, Cas took the chair. As they flipped pages, Sam couldn’t help the big, dumb grin that spread over his face as the angel before him glanced at the occupied bed with every page turn.


End file.
